Stephen and Sharpies ~ Watty Awards 2012

Chapter Four

-Alec

    Sharpie four is the same color as your sweatshirt. This was probably the easiest Sharpie to match with a story. Navy blue and in bright yellow letters reads Bellvue High School, on the front. On the back, also in yellow reads Casey. I have always loved that sweatshirt on you. When you wear it was hard to see that you’re not as muscular as the other guys, though, you have a way better arm than them. I can close my eyes and see every detail of that sweatshirt, like the off centered “s” in Casey.

    The story that comes with this Sharpie is fairly funny actually. You got that sweatshirt freshman year after you became the quarterback of the freshman team. You order the sweatshirt and went to pick it up at the local sports store, Bellvue Sports. I was there, the day you got your sweatshirt, remember. I was looking for some shorts. You may not know this, but I ran cross country, don’t try finding me in the yearbook. I always missed pictures; on purpose.

    So anyways, I was picking up some shorts and I was at the register when you came in. I don’t know what it was about you that day, but you seemed pretty mad. You acted like the world was out to get you. So you didn’t even try to kindly step in front of me, instead you went to the front of the line. You stepped in front of me and gently knocked me back a few steps. I wasn’t going to say anything, but when you did that to me it kind of put me in that mood where I just wanted to slap you.

    “Excuse me.” I tapped your shoulder.

    “What?”

    “You cut in front of me.” I widened my eyes and gave you a look of disgust, so fake.

    “What, are we in middle school? Who cares, I won’t take too long.” You turned make to the counter. I could tell that you didn’t recognize me.

    “Dude, get behind me and wait in line. I was here first.” You rolled your eyes and it set me off. I pushed in front of you and smirked.

    “What the h-”

    “I thought you said we weren’t in middle school anymore? I only did what you just did. Suck it up big boy and get over it.” I handed the shorts to the cashier and she hid a smile. I gave her the money and walked out of the store. I began to walk home leaving you and my thoughts of you in the store, never looking back.

    I remember this day, I was mad and I hadn’t even realized that it was Stephen. Not until she walked away did I recognized the girl and her voice. To say the least, I felt pretty stupid.

    A few minutes later I heard you coming up behind me, yelling. “Hey, wait up.” You came up beside me and I kept walking. “What was that back there, I was in front of you?”

    “And I was in front of you.” I shrugged.

    You let out an irritated sigh and then started to chuckle. I turned to you and stared at you like you were crazy. Or maybe like you knew something I didn’t. I began to shake my head, before I knew it I was laughing with you too. We walked home together, it was normal then, not like if we did it now. It was right before you had gotten popular and it was okay to be seen together. If we were seen together now, I don’t know what people would think. Probably something like I blackmailed you to hang out with me, ridiculous thought, right?

    You know something about that sweatshirt? I have wondered if you would let me wear it. I wonder if this is all a dream or if I have actually gone insane. I have actually included twenty-five markers that go along with twenty-five or more stories. I must have done something when I was young that has caused me to have brain damage; because this is crazy. Maybe I should stop here and never give this box to you, maybe I should it keep to myself. No, I’ve gone too far now, can’t give up yet.

    Last story about your sweatshirt, the first time I saw you and everyone else saw you wear your sweatshirt; it was actually the next day after the sport store incident. You were wearing a pair of straight leg jean pants and your sweatshirt. You had on these Converse, those stupid Converse that you seem to never go anywhere without, just like your sweatshirt. You came into the school wearing your sweatshirt and you walked to your locker and I watched you from my locker. Suddenly, you were surrounded by football players and then cheerleaders. That sweatshirt acted like a magnet for anyone popular, it was pathetic. You enjoyed the fame, I could tell by your smile.

    Since that day I found I didn’t like the way girls stared and hung all over you. I was jealous of how close they could be to you and you could be to any of them. They could all be yours and I couldn’t even come close to their beauty. I might be able to surpass them in smarts, but I sometimes can’t even do that. I guess that sweatshirt is what really told me I liked you and I knew that I would be speechless around you for now and forever. I liked the thought of this and yet at the same time I knew in the end it would all come down to misery and nothing more. I must say that that day began an imaginary us and an end to just me.

-Stephen

    The world isn’t working in my favor right now. She never could tell me this stuff over the years, but now she’s written it all down for me. And now all I think is a little too late. Not for her, but for me.